


i would not ask (like real people do)

by Petr1chor



Series: take me to the barricade [8]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Mindless Fluff, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Protests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:13:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29029245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petr1chor/pseuds/Petr1chor
Summary: After a protest gone wrong, Enjolras finds it hard not to blame himself, and seeks out Grantaire to pick a fight.Grantaire takes him out for ice cream instead
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: take me to the barricade [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049165
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	i would not ask (like real people do)

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr prompt fill  
> Enjoy!!

Enjolras felt cold all over. His friends were in disarray. Combeferre was speaking quietly into his phone. In the kitchen, Joly was anxiously hovering over Bossuet, perched on the counter. Courfeyrac was laying on the couch, arm thrown over his face making a hideous noise of pain. Grantaire-Grantaire wasn’t here.

“Enjolras? Are you alright?”

Enjolras exhaled. He could always trust Jehan to be comforting. “Where’s Grantaire?”

Jehan’s face lit up in an amused smile, “He went home. Something about finishing a commission before Wednesday.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together, resisting the urge to follow up with more questions. _Why didn’t he stay? Is he angry? Is he safe? Is he hurt? Is he alright?_

“Enj,” Jehan said, softly, making Enjolras look up from the point in the carpet he had was intent on burning with his gaze, “He’s okay.”

Enjolras let his shoulders drop from where they had been getting unfortunately close to his ears. Without a word, he left Joly’s apartment.

Enjolras tried to shake away the coppery taste of fear in his mouth. Jehan had said Grantaire was okay, and Jehan was unlikely to lie. However, his mind countered, Grantaire was also unlikely to just walk away from a crowd like that without a fight. Or without telling him it was stupid to have expected anything else.

He felt a chill go down his spine, thinking of the men who crowded him until he couldn’t see his friends.

 _You should stay away from this SJW bullshit_ , _you’re too pretty to get beat up_ , he had whispered, breath hitting his neck. Enjolras was certain he had never been as grateful as he felt when Feuilly found him, grabbed him by the arm and yanked him away without a word.

His ribs were aching where they had slammed into the police barricades when the people started to get rowdy. He knew he should slow down. Maybe if not for his ribs, for the sake of innocent pedestrians who were being assaulted with the sight of a very disheveled young man moving at an awkward speed between powerwalking and sprinting.

The ache and the stares did nothing but make the anxiety in his chest grow. When he slammed open Grantaire’s front door, he felt like his lungs had been replaced entirely with this ball of fear and dread.

Grantaire was sitting on the floor, holding a massive canvas at an awkward angle. He looked up at the sudden intrusion.

“Ah, Apollo,” he said, unfazed, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You should lock your door.” Enjolras thought it was very unfair that absolutely nothing had happened and his face was heating up anyway.

“How would you get in then? Clearly knocking isn’t an option.”

Enjolras made a noise of frustration. “Enough. Stop with the jokes. Just say what you have to say.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow, “What I have to say about what?”

“The pro- the riot. Just fucking do it.”

Grantaie sighed. “What do you want me to say, Enjolras?”

He could still feel the man’s stale breath on his neck. Whatever was rising up in his chest felt uncomfortably close to hysteria.

“I want you to say anything! Scream! Yell at me! Just something to show you fucking care.” Enjolras dragged his hand roughly trough his hair, making his already precariously resting bun come apart. “I don’t know. Tell me you told me so. Tell me this was stupid. Tell me this never would have happened if I wasn’t such a naïve child. You’ve never held back before.”

Grantaire gazed at him, quiet. Enjolras looked down, squirming uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Then Grantaire stood up.

“I’m going to go get some ice cream from that vegan place down the street. I don’t trust you to not burn down an empty apartment so you might as well come with me.”

Grantaire looked around, and grabbed his jacket from where it was draped over his easel. He turned to leave, swiveled back around and grabbed a hoodie from the couch. He thrust it into Enjolras’ hands.

“You really should dress warmer more often.”

Enjolras looked at him, at the smooth brow and the almost smile. “You’re not going to yell at me?”

Grantaire’s mouth pinched unhappily. “I’m not going to be a conduit for your self-flagellation, Enjolras.”

Enjolras followed quietly for the entirety of the walk to the little blue and yellow ice cream place. Grantaire obviously came here often enough, he beamed at the girl behind the counter.

“Hey, Jenny, can I have an uhhhh- actually you know what, surprise me. And a lemon sorbet for sourpuss here.”

Enjolras hissed at him, which did absolutely nothing to refute it.

When Grantaire handed him his cone. “Do you want to sit in here or walk?”

“Walk.”

Neither of them said a word as they walked down the street. It was fairly empty, and quiet enough that the coiling thing in his chest had settled into something quieter. He suspected the silence would be uncomfortable with someone else, but Grantaire kept pace with him. He didn’t speak. He kept walking.

Enjolras fumbled with his hands, unsure where to put them once they were free. They had wandered into a park, and the slow simmer on fear was threatening to grow at the prospect of people. Enjolras stopped dead in his tracks, hands still moving.

“Enj?”

He swallowed. Grantaire put his hand on his shoulder. Enjolras ached to just ask to be wrapped in his arms.

“Enjolras. Nothing happened. No one was seriously hurt. Bossuet sprained his wrist but he once sprained his wrist holding a tray of drinks.”

He squeezed Enjolras’ arm and Enjolras felt his heart stutter pitifully in his chest, “This isn’t on you, Apollo.”

When Grantaire withdrew his hand, it took everything in him not to reach out and grab his hand.

“So,” Grantaire said, an easy smile on his face, “You want to go back to Joly’s, watch shitty movies and sleep over.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, “That would be nice.”

The walk back was long, but Enjolras didn’t mind it. They waded through the people, and for a moment, Enjolras thought back to the man.

“I want to learn to fight,” he said, finally, breaking the silence.

“You? Oh god this is going to be a riot.”

Enjolras tried to shove him, only resulting in him pushing himself away. Grantaire laughed and grabbed his elbow to steady him.

“Yep, you definitely proved me wrong.”

When Grantaire took his hand off his elbow, Enjolras gathered his courage. He ignored the party in his gut and took ahold of Grantaire’s hand.

He tried his hardest not to flush at that. He felt Grantaire’s hand encase his. He failed.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, Comment, Share!
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed this :))


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